Still, I Believe
by Orizielle
Summary: Translated from Italian: 'Eppure non ci credo ancora' by Titinina.
**Translated from Italian: '** **Eppure non ci credo ancora' by Titinina.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own City Hunter or any of its characters.**

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Still, I do not believe it yet.

I look at you. I look at your mouth.  
Your damn mouth. Red. Full. Fleshy. It hits when I'm engrossed. A sweet torture, for too long. I dream all night, to be able to taste, to be able to make it my own.

Still, I do not believe it yet.

Your brown eyes, endless wells where the world is reflected, where I mirror and I see that you love me like I was a rare gem. And I cannot help but think of your bright eyes, and I look at them every day to find a confirmation of being alive.

Still, I do not believe it yet.

That new colour in your cheeks, for a little appreciation of your anger or your woman's innocence. I know every fold of your face, when you laugh you form that small crease near your mouth. I know because I look at you and I know you better than anyone else.

Still, I do not believe it yet.

Your high collar, white. I want to support your lips at least ten times a day. Test with care that skin under your ear and hear you sigh with pleasure.

Still, I do not believe it yet.

Taken from my dreams, I always imagined your naked breasts. Those curves that are seen from under the shirts, but I never dared to really watch, because if I did I could not stop my hand from veneration of your womanhood. I always imagined your nipple, hard and straight and proud. I imagined them in my palms, in my mouth, to be able to give pleasure and discover your taste that stuns me, dulls my senses.

Still, I do not believe it yet.

Your waist. Your waist so feminine, so inviting. What fool not want to put his hand down on it, and feel your soft skin? Your navel, which invites me to taste it with my tongue? Exquisite perversion.

Still, I do not believe it yet.

God, your hips. Buttery and tempters. My torment along the curve of your seat. You bring out the animal in me. The thought of touching you with my hands, to feel your texture. And seeing them adorned in black lace, the sublime temptation to tear them off with my teeth.

Still, I do not believe it yet.

Legs, long legs, to touch, to bite. I imagine them around my hips. They fasten me, clutching me. The contrast of your clear skin with my dark, to worship every inch and feel only with the fingertips.

Still, I do not believe it yet.

Your soft, so feminine hands. When you touch my cheek, shoulder to call my attention, a chill comes over me from the back. Because I see your hands touching me in several places, walking your fingers down my neck, on my chest. You hold me in your arms, you touch every fibre of my being.

Still, I do not believe it yet.

You are here, in front of me. My forbidden dreams have come true tonight.  
I will make love to you.  
Touch your side.  
My mouth, hungry will touch yours.  
Your lips, incendiary flame, forbidden taste. The bite and feel of your breath. You open your mouth and I feel with my tongue, greedy, greedy. Tasting the taste of your full lips, and when every other flavour is gone, I feel only yours.  
At last, my hands are free, to be able to touch. Your bare back sags under my hands. Your arms clinging to my neck. You are here, in my arms. Mouth to mouth. Chest to chest. And finally I taste that tender piece of skin under your ear, just touch my tongue at that point, your peasant and intoxicating breath, your hands clutching my shoulder for support.  
In a move I release your bra, and finally, finally, your breasts. It's like I always imagined. Round, perfect for my hands. The palm of my hand is on top of it, I feel your turgid nipple. My mouth takes the taste of it, and like a predator, I tickle it between my teeth. Your taste stuns me and makes me mad.  
My hands touch every part, every inch of you. I caress your side, I take your womanhood in my hands full. You tense under my touch, reaching out and perfect. I hear you gasp, squeeze a bit, and take you down on the table in our kitchen. You look back at me, half naked, with flushed cheeks and eyes full of desire for me, and I kiss you again. My tongue travels along your body, down your navel, and further still. Your desire has become a delicious groan.  
I touch your leg while I insinuate between them.  
And finally, the centre of you. This stupid and useless piece of tissue precludes me to pay my respects to your hottest spot. With smart slowness, the extension, you raise your hips to facilitate me in the task, so provocative.  
The fabric slides off your skin, like a caress, and finally you are naked. My hand takes the journey in the opposite direction, from the inside of your arrival, knee high, smooth and soft. You part your legs and sigh again, I will be insane if you don't touch me soon. Your femininity is finally under my fingers, impregnated by your pleasure.  
Woman, my only friend, forgive me, but I must drink off you tonight. I get drunk on your taste, on your desire for me. Desire, the nectar of the gods. Your moans are stronger and it makes me mad.  
I get back on your mouth and your legs shake my strong life, you caress my chest and your mouth savours my chin and you send me into raptures, whispering just two words in my ear –show me –  
And I let out an animal roar.  
Your hands touch my manhood. The plasmas under your hands and I see stars and the firmament. You take away what's left of my clothes.  
You cling to my neck, kissing me. My manhood presses.  
And you push your hips. I take them into my hands.  
I go into you, slowly, slowly, every moan is an invitation to come. I close my eyes and I feel you around me. I never felt a pleasure returned.  
We join in the oldest dance in the world. Rhythmic thrusts, groans like primitive animals, sighs of pleasure, scratches on my shoulders, tortured flesh under my fingers, insatiable mouths.  
And your voice – you're inside me –  
It is you, my partner, my lover. I'm within you, in your warmth, your love.  
Wild, imperious, you part your legs further to welcome me better. Everything becomes more demanding, relentlessly, without hesitation. I open into you, you join me in your orgasm, writhing with mine. The groans of pleasure are felt. Something we never imagined, primitive, unique.

Still, I do not believe it.  
I see you naked, on my bed. Mine. Mine forever.

And everything has just begun.

\- Yet still, I cannot believe that you, Ryo, would want me to be yours.

and I answered you

\- You're mine, Kaori. You've always belonged to me.

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 **Thanks to Titinina, for letting me translate!**


End file.
